Desolation
by YouSentMeFlying
Summary: Sequel to "Sanctuary". With Eli in a Psychiatric Institution, how will Imogen cope with her pain and anger? Once she finds out Eli has a new love interest, things begin to spiral into chaos.
1. on a mission

**Yay! Sequel to Sanctuary! ;) as most of you know, this will only be a three shot, but from this chapter until the last, it will be nothing but drama. You'll understand why toward the end of this one, say… when Imogen is drawing a very interesting picture. **

_Have you ever felt like screaming; screaming until your lungs rupture? There's so much pain in the world. _

_Six months later…_

It's been months since Imogen has seen or heard from Eli, and she beginning to think she was finally over the breakup to be able to contact him. She was told he's been in Toronto the whole time, and that his parents decided to get back together. She's just wondered why she hasn't seen him around town, or why he hasn't been enrolled back into school. Unless, of course CeCe came to conclusion of home schooling him, to let him hide out in his room. That will do wonders for Eli's social life.

In all seriousness, Imogen needed to visit him to check in – even if that would do shit to ruin her life again, she had to start putting other peoples' feelings before her own.

It was the very last period of school before the start of summer break; Imogen was torturously awaiting for Mr. Betenkamp's game of Science Bingo to wrap up so she could get out of that hellhole. Going to the Goldsworthy household after class wouldn't be such a bad idea; she needed to see him, even if it killed her.

"Ms. Moreno!" Mr. Betenkamp exclaimed from the front of the class. He was pointing energetically at her; his expression full of hope. Kids never took any of this seriously – that's the main reason why he came up with the fun idea of Bingo. "I'm counting on you." He gestured toward a problem on the white board. "Figure this equation; how many O, for Oxygen, are there?"

Science has always been a breeze for Imogen, one of the best in her class, but she tended to hide her talents so she didn't turn into a female version of Wesley. But it's the last day of school, so what the heck. She squinted at the board, her eyes flickering over the product quickly. "There are two Neutrons, so you multiply that by two, along with the number next to Oxygen..." she clicked her tongue against her teeth noisily. "I'm gonna go with four?" the question was easy as hell; she didn't even need to think about that one.

Mr. Betenkamp's face lit up, smiling ear to ear as he stared over at Imogen. "This is the kind of effort I want from you people! Great job, Ms. Moreno, you may be dismissed early."

"Really?"

"You've been recovering a lot this year. Go. Enjoy your summer."

There was a mixture of heavy groans and sighs come from each end of the classroom. None of the other students found Imogen's early dismissal fair at all. It was too hot for their brains to function correctly, and not one of them could honestly care-less about this damn Bingo game. Their summer officially began at the last bell, and they weren't going to let Mr. Betenkamp keep them back for an extra second. Half of the students in his class didn't even deserve to graduate. If it weren't for how much tolerance the teacher had, they would all be spending their summer in the classroom with him to earn the credits they still needed. "Teacher's pet!" one of the students called from the other end of the room, causing an outburst of laughs from the other teenagers in the room.

Imogen has been tormented by other students a lot lately, more so every day, and she couldn't be gladder she was getting out of school early. It would give her a head start on all of the students to get her things together before the hallways began packing up.

xxx

Imogen rapped her knuckles against the hard wooden front door; she couldn't believe she was actually doing this. There wasn't one doubt in her mind that she missed Eli – in fact, she really hoped he was getting better so they could start anew. It's been a while since Imogen could go near a boy without getting freaked out. She still had to apologize for throwing a game controller at Adam's beanie covered head.

A month after Eli disappeared, the police linked every murder Eli had perpetrated to Jake Martin; Jeremy had committed suicide, and Bruce's murder was merely a coincidence. The case has been officially closed for quite a while now.

The front door creaked open slowly, exposing a tired looking CeCe Goldsworthy who had a joint wedged between her chapped lips. Some bad habits never changed, obviously. "Hey sweetie," CeCe croaked indolently. Imogen didn't judge people often, but CeCe honestly looked like shit.

"Is Eli home?" Imogen wondered softly, her voice shaking nervously. She was preparing herself for the incredibly awkward moment up ahead that she was dragging her limp, unwilling body into. Imogen has never talked to an ex after a bad breakup, so she didn't know quite what to expect from it all.

CeCe shook her head at the girl and took a drag from her marijuana, exhaling the gray billow of smoke into Imogen's face, who choked back a disgusted cough. She hasn't touched that stuff since she last "par-took" with Eli that day. After spewing until four in the morning, she vowed to never try it again. "Elijah no longer lives here."

"Then where is he staying?" the last she heard, he was still at home with his parents. If he had moved to Alaska or something to attend Boot Camp without letting her know, she would be beyond pissed.

CeCe rolled her eyes and reached over to where a stack of papers were sitting on a coffee table. Eli's own mother hadn't seen him in over four months, and she has picked up some of her old habits because of him leaving. Taking back Bullfrog may have been the biggest mistake of them all. She handed Imogen a yellow sticky note which had Eli's new address written down on it. She gladly took it from the middle-aged woman to scan over the address; the area didn't look familiar to her but it seemed like it was going to be a pretty shitty part of town. She hated going downtown alone, to places where people would rob you of your 5-Gum if they wanted it bad enough.

"CeCe, come suck my dick! I'm tired of waiting for your old ass!" Bullfrog howled from further into the house.

xxx

Imogen continued her journey to East York where Eli was supposedly now residing. The Goldsworthy's had moved pretty far out of the way, so Beck Cab would cost a fortune. By now, she was too tired to walk the entire way to the city.

Awkward conversations with foreign drivers were always amusing; she couldn't understand what they were talking about half of the entire drive. Part of her cab fare should be funded toward keeping the driver's mouth closed.

The cab parked outside of a brick structure, a blue sign with white print reading "_East York Psychiatric_" written above the front entrance of the building. Imogen's eyebrows pinned together almost immediately while she overlooked the clinic prudently. "Are you sure this is the right address?" Imogen asked the driver, not taking her eyes off of that sign. If she was in the right area, she could now understand why CeCe had been acting like she was. She's only met CeCe a few times after the fire, and she was nothing like the way she was just a half hour ago. Whenever she saw her, she was a total sweetie who treated Imogen like she was one of her own children.

"This is the address on the paper, Miss," the driver responded with a heavy Jamaican accent. "Your total is $13.26, please."

Imogen groaned, digging around in her shoulder bag until she could find the right amount of money that she owed him. It looked like she would be getting to know this driver pretty well if all went well with Eli today. She handed him the money with a sly smile. "Keep the change, Thomas." She patted his shoulder and flung the door open, letting in a cool summer breeze; Imogen loved the warm weather.

Thomas Curtina logged Imogen's pay into his computer, observing her leave in the reflection of the rear view mirror.

Imogen strolled through the front entrance of the hospital. Her surroundings had bleach white walls and floorings, with a peach rimming along where the ceiling just met the wall. A few patients were off to the side, sitting a circle, a board game in the middle of them – they seemed happy.

She approached the front desk to where a receptionist was typing fiercely on an Apple keyboard. The middle-aged woman peeked up over her gold-framed glasses. "Can I help you, miss?" By Imogen's fidgeting and several scars from the previous summer covering her arm, the woman had thought Imogen was admitting herself here. Honestly, Imogen hasn't had any form of relapse in a really long time; she was sad but far from being depressed.

She pressed her hands down on the cold desk, licking her lips nervously. "I'm here to see Elijah Goldsworthy."

The woman, Irene, nodded her head to search Eli's file up in the computer. Why didn't this place look anything like psychiatric hospitals did in movies? That must be why they tell you not believe everything you hear or see on TV.

"Mr. Goldsworthy is in room 304," she told Imogen with a smile. "Do you mind me body searching you? You can stay clothed; it's just to make sure nothing is on you that can be harmful to the patients. You understand…" Irene stood from her desk chair to motion Imogen to where they searched visitors. It was a small closet looking room, plastic bins off to the right, and metal detectors off to the left side.

The two girls stepped through the door to where Irene picked up a wooden clipboard in her wrinkled hands. "Bracelets, necklaces, rings, earrings, or any type of jewelry is permitted," Irene read off the board to which Imogen removed the items and placed them into a plastic bin that sat off to the side. "Belts, shoelaces, or any string material must be shed." Imogen removed her black converse sneakers tiredly and tossed them on top of her jewelry. "Good. Any nail files, prescription drugs, or pocket knives on you?"

"Nope," Imogen responded, popping the 'p' dramatically.

"What are your glasses made of?"

"Metal?" Imogen shrugged, annoyed. "They're glasses… they can't hurt anyone."

"You'd be surprised," Irene mumbled under her breath, observing Imogen's chest closely. Where did they hire these people? Like Imogen really enjoyed having her breasts observed by an old woman she's met no longer than five minutes ago. "Just making sure you're not carrying any type of weapon in there; that kind of thing."

xxx

Anya's lips attacked Eli's passionately, gnawing on his lower lip, her fingers whipping around in his black hair. Just what Imogen wanted to see while visiting the guy she still had feelings for. How do you find a girlfriend in the crazy-bin anyway without being separated by nurses and guards? In movies, they never allowed patients to explore each other's bodies in this way as a form of punishment. Imogen cleared her throat, getting no response from the either of them. She's never seen anyone go at it so illogically; it wouldn't surprise her if one of them lost a tongue after their little fun. Anya's grip on Eli's hair tightened, jerking his head back to let their lips part; he hissed out in a pain that was so pleasurable and reached for the older girl's waist.

It was every girl's dream to walk in on her ex sucking face with someone she's never met – Eli has never kissed her this way before. And since when did he enjoy agony being inflicted on him? Eli's fingernails dug into Anya's side painfully, receiving a light moan escaping her tight lips. If Imogen left right now to go home and start off her summer, Eli wouldn't even know she was there. After witnessing Eli biting some chick's tongue off right on from of her saddened eyes, all she really wanted to do was cry into her pillow until she ran out of tears to shed. She needed to be strong, though; her summer couldn't be as miserable and crappy as it was last year. Suck it up, Imogen, you'll be fine. "If I leave now, maybe I can catch up with Thomas…" she told them loud enough to hear her. Eli's lips left Anya's pale neck, a sucking sound echoing in the tiny room as his lips departed from her skin. He jolted his head to face Imogen with a shocked expression. Imogen had thought he would be wearing a robe or scrubs like they do in the movies. But here he sat in his favourite Dead Hand t-shirt and skinny jeans; his hair had grown out longer since she last saw him.

Eli stood from his creaky bed to stare her down; she looked sad, and all he wanted to do was comfort her, but he knew he couldn't. "Imogen…"

"Happy birthday," she told him swiftly, trying to fight back her tears. She missed Eli's voice the most, the way he said her name ever so smoothly.

"You're only five months late. Did you happen to bring me a chocolate cake?" Eli joked, chuckling to himself lowly. Anya sat tall behind him, a frown etched onto her face. They weren't technically dating each other; it was strictly a benefits package, so there's no reason for her to be jealous of one girl that walks into the room. Eli's face fell as he glanced over Imogen again. "You look good. I've missed you."

"I missed you, too," Imogen replied, giving him a broken and sad smile. The room he was staying in was almost as nice as what hers was back home. She was expecting something more along the lines of cold, damp, heinous, and have barred windows. Who knew crazy people were treated like royalty here? "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." She was looking at Anya now, referring to her hiking in on her and Eli's diminutive make-out session. Imogen didn't know whether to report them for sexual indecency, or try to erase everything she witnessed from her mind.

Eli smirked down at Imogen. "Not at all."

"Yes you were," Anya sneered. "Something quite important actually."

Imogen cleared her throat and let her eyes wander to the floor. What a lovely girlfriend he had there. "Sorry. I'll be, uh… in the art room." without thinking twice, she quickly swiped her foot over the other to head back toward the door. She was hurt, and she couldn't deny that – here she thought she was finally getting over the one guy she really, truly loved, but now… she didn't know what to think. Seeing him with Anya was the most heartbreaking thing she's witnessed since over the summer. This may be worse than when she had to let him go after killing those people in the Degrassi gymnasium.

"Imogen, wait." Eli quickly reached his hand out to grab her arm, lightly pulling her back so he didn't hurt her. "You can stay, or… we can go down together," he suggested. "You could sketch me."

"Sorry, looking at your smug face for so much of a long time might make me go blind, so… I'll check 'no' in that box."

"Don't be like this," he begged quietly, in hopes Anya wouldn't hear him.

Eli hasn't seen Imogen in nearly six months, and she wants to act this way with him? That's so mature of her – she's always had quite the temper on her. Who knew a girl as tiny as her could be filled with so much hatred? "Like what?" she scoffed. "You're the one being ridiculous, Eli."

"Am I?" he questioned her, confused.

She clenched her teeth; Imogen knew she should have never come down here. She was pissed off; she was hurt, and felt like screaming until she couldn't scream anymore. If Eli could move on so quickly from someone he supposedly 'loved', this made her doubt any feelings he claimed to have for her. Maybe it was true about all guys – always using you for sex and throwing you away like a piece of trash.

"I don't want you to ditch your pathetic masochistic girlfriend for someone like me, so fuck off and let me go sketch. Alone." Imogen could hear Anya's low growl from the bed before her.

"Why are you doing this?" Eli asked. She was truly scaring him, she's never had this kind of surprised attitude with him. "Should I be worried?"

"Oh yes, Eli, be worried. And the fact that you have to ask should tell you that there is something going on with me." she didn't let Eli protest any further before she walked out of the room quickly, jerking his hand off of her arm. She couldn't wait until she found that art room so she could draw her beating the shit out of Eli's face.

With a slight sigh, Eli slipped back down onto the bed. Imogen was angry with him, and the worst part was he didn't even know what he did wrong. Was her intention to come up here to yell at him all along?

_How clueless of you, Eli._

Anya crossed her arms over her chest, never taking her eyes off of Eli's blank expression. "What was that about?"

"You know just about as much as I do."

xxx

With a quick flick of her wrist, Imogen let the black crayon between her fingers trace along the page. Her drawing of Eli with a knife in his chest, and lying in a puddle of crimson blood was almost complete – all she needed to finish was the insane way his hair flows. It's funny; everything she used to love about him, she now hated.

"Wanna borrow my glitter glue?" a patient beside her asked, his words slurring as he talked slowly. His name was Tony Nicassi; he took a brutal injury to the head three years ago and has never been the same since. He and a few of his University friends went up to the lake when he was playfully shoved into the water, and was driven over by the boat. The propellers cracked open his skull, and cut up his legs pretty badly. Every once in a while, he would suffer from extreme paranoia and heavy hemorrhages in his brain.

"No thank you." Imogen smiled softly at the older man. He was a sweetheart – he didn't know what he was talking about half the time, but he was one of the nicest people she's met in a while.

"I think it would look much better with some glitter glue. See?" he lifted his paper off of the table weakly, smirking while he showed his artwork to his newfound friend. "It was a penis with no glitter glue before. Now it's a penis _with _glitter glue." He laughed, joined in by Imogen.

The two were being hushed by several of the other patients that were in the room with them, along with one of the councilors. Imogen covered her mouth to attempt suppressing her laughter, but it only muffled her cackles a tiny bit. "Why is the penis purple?"

"Too much Viagra?" Tony commented with a shrug.

"That's a nice picture, Tony." She shook her head, turning back to her own drawing now. "You know what? Pass me the red glitter glue."

"Hey Tone," a familiar voice sounded from beside Imogen, followed by the squeal of a chair being pulled out. It was Eli finally coming to attend one of his best friends.

It was always Eli who didn't know how to take a hint. Imogen was here to visit him at first, but she's never felt so used in her life than when she walked in on him and Anya. And besides, she was meeting some really good people here; almost thought about acting like she was off her rocker so she could admit herself into the hospital. Perhaps her and Tony could share a room together and draw pictures of colourful man-parts with glitter glue. Sounds much more interesting than the life she has now.

"Why is your face red?" Tony questioned Eli, Imogen looking up to see a red blotch under his right eye. Must've been from his girlfriend who got off on giving and receiving pain – those type of individuals were pathetic and disgusting. If that's what Anya was here for, did anyone even care enough to separate her from other patients so she could get better? Restrain that bitch to a table for a week.

"Never mind that," Eli responded. "Nice, uh… drawing." He nodded toward Imogen's picture, who was just touching up the glitter glue in the puddle of blood around Eli's dead carcass. "And what does this express?" he coughed, already assuming what her response would be.

Imogen shrugged her shoulders. "It expresses me wanting to stab you in your heart, you bastard. After all, that is what you did to me."

"Wait, is this what it's about?" he laughed.

"Real hilarious, isn't it?"

"You're the one who broke up with me."

"Because I had no choice! You idiot, you murdered people! Right in front of me! I'm surprised I'm not the one locked up in this place instead of you; that shit fucks a person up, Eli."

Eli reached back to scratch his neck awkwardly, trying to ignore all of the eyes that were on them now. He was getting better; he was sick back then, but he's gotten help, attention, and the medication he needed to change himself around. His doctor was considering letting him go if he continued to show such a huge improvement. Eli's been doing nothing but getting help since he came here – he's never felt happier in his life. But then Imogen had to come and ruin it for him. The way she was acting… Eli didn't even know her anymore. And he knew it wasn't the only one at fault for her actions. "You're making a scene."

Imogen stood from the chair, dumping a basket of coloured pencils, markers, and broken crayons to the floor with a smash. She was beyond pissed. Her heart was racing, and her veins were filling up with adrenaline. "How's this for a goddamn scene?" she shouted, snatching up her now balled up drawing before throwing it straight in his face. "You're crazy! Just admit it!"

With a high-pitched scream, her hands were placed firmly under the wooden table; she flipped it over to land it onto the floor on its side. Tears were streaming down her warm cheeks now, and she wanted nothing more than to break Eli's smug face off.

Eli rose from his seat, approaching her with quick movements – she needed him more than anyone at the moment. And why wasn't anyone around them doing anything? "Calm down, okay?" he tried to reach his arms away from her, but she slapped him away. "You're right! You're right… I am crazy. I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. I had to hurt innocent people…" he would admit anything right now to get her to cool off. "I _am _crazy, and I'm trying to get help, but I need as much support as possible to get through this. You're the only one I know who cares about me… please, Imogen, I'm sorry. For everything. For fucking up your life – all I ever wanted was to make you happy."

She laughed humourously. "You didn't accomplish that did you? Do I look happy to you?"

"It's my fault. It's my fault. I'm so sorry," he repeated himself over and over. It was obvious to everyone in the room that he was being sincere. Everyone realized that except for the only one who needed to hear it; Imogen was the only one couldn't seem to believe he would ever change.

Borderline Personality Disorder? That was no excuse for finding it amusing to take innocent people's lives. They had friends and a family that loved them, and are going through absolute hell right now because of him. They all had to survive through Christmas and New Year without their beloved son, or daughter, or niece, or nephew. She or he was someone's grandchild, with at least one person who had to live without them for the rest of their lives because of a crazy high school kid who murdered every last of them. He tortured every one of his "victims" without thinking twice about it; he didn't have a heart. Something like that can't be fucking diagnosed with a particular "disorder".

**It's nice to finally have my readers understand what was wrong with Eli and why he had the actual urge to want to hurt people. But he's getting a lot better now. ^_^ although, that doesn't mean **_**someone **_**isn't getting worse, now does it? Spoilers. Oh yes. :)**


	2. die for you

**Borderline usually isn't found in serious cases, but after going untreated for such a long time, you go into a mania. Depression, suicide attempts, abandonment issues. Eli's already had that for his entire life. Without seeing anyone about it, or seeking any type of attention, he thought it was just depression. But to replace cutting, he had urges to hurt people. What it does is, planting feelings into your head about you or others. Mixed with his bipolar, there was too much going on in his head and he had almost no control over himself anymore – it all literally made him go mad. When I was starting Sanctuary, I had interviewed my grandpa and great grandpa who had to live with someone **_**years **_**ago which lived through BD and didn't go treated at all. She almost attacked my grandpa with a knife. D:**

**Just to clear up confusion. =P I know one or two of my readers have Borderline, and I'm so glad it isn't in a bad case like my great grandma had. I even have these feelings when I sometimes want to rip people's throats out. O_O not sure if that's normal, or because I really watch too many horror movies. Or because I write stories like these. But, I was never blood related to my great grandma, so hopefully it's not that option. Anyways! Onto chapter 2. **

Eli trudged down the dark corridor of the hospital. It was late at night and all of the patients have already turned in for the night. Except this guy named Dale who thought vampires were coming after him. Every night Dale would sit on the same bench, with a crucifix clenched in one hand, and a bottle of holy water in the other, waiting. He normally slept through the day so he could stay up and keep watch all night. But lately, the nurses were keeping him awake so he could sleep at night.

"Hey Dale," Eli greeted with a yawn. "Want me to get you a Red Bull from the pop machine?"

"No thanks, brother. Already had four."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"Okay… well, good luck finding some vampires to slay." He loved Dale to bits – he couldn't help but humour him whenever the guy would go on one of these tangents. Eli continued down the eerie, dark hallway as he spoke, being extremely careful when he sneaked by the nurse station. No patient was allowed out of their room after eleven at night, unless you were Dale, however; he would constantly be hassled about being out of bed.

As he kept pushing one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, he couldn't help but to have disturbing and vivid flashbacks to the dream he had back in Vancouver. That bracelet on his wrist, that girl's face, and that incredibly spine-chilling chant would be etched into his mind for the rest of his life.

_The name GOLDSWORTHY, ELI was stamped across the top, followed by the MRN – 3516509 in the next line. And SX: M ADM/REG DT: 10/10/11 ; VANCOUVER PSYCHI – which was printed across the bottom; the rest he still couldn't make out very well. He must have been admitted into the hospital tonight for some reason. He remembered going home and crashing on the bed, but anything before and after that was a huge blur._

Out of instinct, he looked down at his wristband to attempt reading it in the dim lighting.

GOLDSWORTHY, ELI crossed the top of the band, with _MRN _– 3516509 just beneath that. On the bottom line, the sections SX:_ M ADM/REG _ DT: _1/10/12 ; EAST YORK PSYCHIATRIC _werestamped there, followed by his date of birth. Goosebumps rose to the surface of his pale skin, and he was preparing himself for that three line Haiku chant to echo in his head.

He heard a heavy, agitated sigh come from behind him; he instantly knew he was either about to get caught, or his dream about Janelle Anderson becoming a reality. "What are you doing out of bed, boy?" Eli let out a deep sigh in relief that he wasn't aware he was holding. It was Zyshonne, who was the most hot-headed nighttime nurse at the facility. Zyshonne would never let anyone get away with anyone, under any circumstances, for any reason.

"I-I wanted to make a phone call," Eli stammered. If he was afraid of anyone, it would be this woman.

"Mhmm." She looked at him blankly. "What you need to make a phone call this late for? It is after two in the morning, no one is gonna want to talk to your scrawny ass this late in the night. They probably sleepin'."

He squinted his jaded eyes, seeing straight through the heavier woman. The one he wanted to call, she was never in bed this early on a summer vacation. "She's a night owl."

"Whatever, just make it quick. Then it's back to bed, hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't ever call me 'ma'am'. Call me that again and I'll slap the eyeliner clear off your eyes. Got me?"

"Yes, ma – I mean, I got you."

"So you're giving me cheek now?"

"No… what does that even mean?" Eli heaved a frustrated sigh. "Can I make my call so I can go to sleep, please?"

She waved her hand at him, indicating she didn't really give a shit what he did at the moment. She was more interested in why Dale was pacing back and forth, yelping out frightened shrieks. All of that Red Bull must have started getting to his head – you can only go so long before it begins to take some kind of effect.

Eli made his way over to the payphone that sat at the end of the hallway, and he slipped his coins into the slot before dialing Imogen's number which he knew by heart. He was a bit skeptical about speaking to her after her meltdown (if you would call it that) the last time he saw her. He wasn't sure what to expect from her, and if she would give him an attitude, or ignore his call completely. But Eli needed to know she didn't hate him – that's all he wanted – he couldn't live with himself if she despised him.

The other side of the line connected, Eli's heart coming to a complete standstill in his chest… this was it. "Imogen?" he asked gently.

"What do you want?" she snapped once she realized it was Eli who was calling her. She's been overly stressed lately with the nonstop bullying and she didn't feel like putting up with liars such as him. Imogen honestly couldn't care if she never spoke to him again – even though anyone would know that wasn't true.

Eli flinched at the tone of his favourite girl's voice. He couldn't handle it when she screamed at him; it made him feel extremely uncomfortable and pained at the thought of her being so pissed off, and it was his fault. _She was hurting._ "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fucking fantastic," she rolled her eyes. "And yourself? What about Anya? I bet she's doing great!"

He rubbed his temples, attempting to sooth the sudden headache which was spreading across his forehead. Why must women be so harsh to men? Sure, they messed up sometimes, but it's not like it was the end of the world or anything. Imogen must have seriously been on her period this week for her to be acting this way – Eli almost didn't recognize her this way – it was like she was a whole different person. "Imo, look," he sighed shakily. "I'm really sorry for hurting you, but I can't keep apologizing. I don't know what you want from me."

"Try not to be such a dipshit," she suggested. "And while you're at it, I would appreciate it if you stopped lying to me."

"When have I ever lied to you?" he raised his voice, realizing what he'd just said. There were several examples she could have given him for that one. "Just recently, I mean."

"My tacos are extra warm for ya!" the voice of an old Scottish man shouted from behind Eli. He was another one of those fruits who tried walking the halls at night. Being how loud he was, he's never been caught out of bed after curfew. No one really understood what he was admitted for, and not even the nurses were aware of what his real name is. Everyone at the hospital would just call him 'Loud Phil'. He undeniably fit in pretty well.

"Borderline, eh?" she scoffed. "I looked it up online… it doesn't make you go on a raging murder spree. You're just downright crazy, there's nothing anyone can do to help you."

Eli rolled his eyes at the girl. "Google is just a bunch of bullshit and false information."

"My tacos are extra warm for ya!"

He clenched his strong hand around the plastic telephone. "I have Bipolar Disorder as well, remember? Depression… stress. Put those together and you get a boiling reaction." The way his body was heating up in fury petrified him some; he hadn't taken his pills in at least twenty-four hours and now he was regretting that decision. Just when he thought he was starting to get back on track, he had to fuck it up for himself.

"I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"My tacos are extra warm for ya!"

"Why are you acting like this?" he questioned her lowly. He didn't understand what was going on with her; she was acting like a senseless person, unstable. She was acting similar to the way Eli once did just before he snapped. All he could do was worry about her and her health.

There was a pause on Imogen's side of the line, and Eli leaned his moist forehead against the ice cold wall beside him. He shivered. "My tacos are extra warm for ya!" the Scottish man poked Eli's cheek annoyingly, but he tried his best to ignore this action. "My tacos are extra warm for ya! My tacos are extra warm for ya!"

"If you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to make sure your tacos are never warm again!" Eli roared, frustrated. "You can count on that, motherfucker!"

"Yer bum's oot the windae!"

"What's going on?" Imogen asked, her voice lacing in curiosity. All she could hear was Eli yelling and some foreign guy in the background. Since it was a Mental Ward, anything could be happening down there that she should be concerned about. It's not like she would ever be worried about anything Eli did anywhere; and that's what she would keep telling everyone, along with herself.

Relationships crumble, usually in a really evil way, and Imogen should have known from the start that it wasn't going to work out. They were too different… she wasn't prepared to be in a serious relationship. She just thought Eli could be better than her ex. Here she was, thinking Eli would never do anything to hurt her, and he did just that… more than once. No one deserved being unhappy the way that she was, and still continues to be. So she swallowed her pride and licked her chapped lips. "I just need to know… if you still love me," Imogen chokes. She tries to calm herself down, to not sound like such a fucking pussy in front of the guy she would never get over.

"I'm with Anya now…" Eli exhaled emotionally, pushing Loud Phil out of his face.

Imogen nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Do you love her?" she asked in barely a whisper, her tear-filled eyes closed shut.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, toying with the coiled cord of the payphone. "Of course I do," he lied. "She's a nice girl."

"Two minutes remaining," a robot voice spoke through the payphone. "Please insert one dollar and fifty cents to continue this call."

Imogen groaned when she heard the irritating robot lady. "Sorry for being a bitch to you… I don't know what's been going on with me lately."

"Just rest," Eli speaks with a sly smile. "I'll try calling you back later? Maybe tomorrow… or you could come up and visit me. I'll be getting out of here soon –"

"—I don't think that's a good idea."

"When are you free to talk?"

"I don't think… we should be friends anymore."

**Writer's block is seriously a bitch! I tried, okay? xD The next chapter will be the last one, a little longer than this one was. I'd like to apologize for the long wait, but I honestly forgot about it. O_O I've been working on other projects. And a big thanks to Mariah ( mzfeistyx3 ) for suggesting the line "my tacos are extra warm for ya!"**


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